Hachin: Seasons
by Eduard Kassel
Summary: A small sequel to Hachin, spoilers for Hachin. Time passes and the seasons turn. As what was fades into memory and history the future begins to sprout and grow all around us. Even the Great wall does not divide people from the passage of time, with all the joys and sorrow that it brings. Three-shot.


Disclaimer: I do not Own Mulan

Betaed by:Zim'smostloyalservant

**SPOILER ALERT!: This story is intended as an interlude filling some time between "Hachin" and its true sequel. As such you can expect it to be a big spoiler for "Hachin", so if you have not read that story I suggest you hit back and read that story first. Thank you. **

_Hachin: Seasons_

Heirs

Bataar felt he should have been warned. A clear warning, not the half laughed foretellings he had received from those few that remained close enough to speak frankly to the Shan-Yu of all Huns.

Oh yes, he should have seen it coming. But he had other matters to focus on. Such as getting the surviving sons of Barrago to not only lay down their weapons but actually agree to a division of their father's wealth and power. One that would not set one heir up to devour the others in a few years.

And of course, threatening them into accepting the loss of life as falling on Unegan and the ghoul of Burilegi, so they would not seek vengeance against one another.

He had a duty to the Hun Confederation as the Shan-Yu. That included demonstrating that, despite a disastrous loss in war and a coup that had seen two of his famed and trusted officers turn against him; he remained mighty enough to lead the Huns against anything.

With all this he felt he deserved a little more support when his wife started crying.

The Hun ruler stood in the night outside his new ger, amidst the accumulating snow, leaning against the doorframe, not sulking. Hachin, his wife who was rather aptly named by his deceased mentor, was inside. He was not sure whether it was better to go in or stay out.

'Old Moon would have the answer, or perhaps Ulaan. The archer was a husband for years, after all,' he thought. Was it a sign of growing old when it seemed every solution could have been produced by someone now dead?

Maybe he had waited too long to take an interest in women?

No matter, more importantly what had gone wrong in there?

They had been eating, or he had; as the bump on her stomach grew, her appetite became more and more unpredictable. He had attained the fresh meat she had been demanding and hoped it would help the meal go smoothly. And she had said, "This would go well with rice."

"I suppose," he had answered.

"I wish I had some rice to go with it."

"We are on the Steppes, it is winter, we cannot get rice," he had pointed out. She was not a fool to state such strange things.

"If we were in China, we could get rice," she had insisted.

"We are not in China," he had stated the obvious, as it seemed it had to be stated.

"And I'm never going back.

"My parents are going to have a grandson… and they'll never know," she wailed. She looked about to burst into tears, grabbing her knees and leaning forward.

"You did not realize that when you decided not to kill me?" he asked. If the thrown knife was any indication, that had been the wrong thing to say.

He had been on his feet, prepared to meet further attacks if she had indeed changed her mind about killing him. There had been no further attacks; instead, she had actually started to cry. Faced with this rather than a potential fight for his life, he had done the sane thing – retreated.

Standing in the snow sprinkling wind, he knew he would have to go inside or to another ger.

And another thing – he wished it were not this bigger, new ger. The tribe no longer tolerated his old one; he needed one more befitting royalty and to accommodate a family set to grow, they had insisted. While nowhere near the size of his late brother's monstrosity, it had more than enough room for him, Hachin, and Odgerel.

While all his late brother's former wives had been taken as servants, he was not about to be swamped by them in his own ger. His nieces no longer feared him as the monster unegan had make him out to be, but they were accustomed to a certain behavior from patriarchs. Prior to his brother's death he had hardly spared a thought for those girls, but as his blood he had obligations to them as they would to him when they came of age to marry off.

He had considered taking refuge in the servants' tent they all occupied next to his own ger, but even he saw that seeking the company of women subordinate to his will after a fight with his wife would look quite bad.

He hoped Odgerel knew something about tending pregnant women. Unegan had certainly inflicted a number of daughters on her and the others. But that woman was damaged. Even now, her co-wives did not freely divulge what had happened, but it was clear she had suffered worse under his brother's cruelty.

The woman rarely left either ger without either Hachin, Dalan, or Solongo, unless children were involved. The others might marry and get out of his hair, but he had little doubt Odgerel wanted little more than to stay with Hachin, who seemed to put her troubled soul at ease.

'Unegan, why do you and your father leave so many scars in your wake?' he wondered.

The thought of his brother deepened his scowl. What had his brother done in situations like this? He did not know, but he could guess. A man who leaves behind a wife who would likely never desire a man's touch again, much less be barely mourned by his own children…

He would have lashed out, with words or with his arms. He could almost imagine him leaving them weeping more and storming out, demanding everything be in order on his return or else.

Storming out…

Crap.

"Well, wolf eyes, looks like you gone and done it. Made my baby girl cry!" an annoying voice broke into his contemplation. Glancing up, he saw the brightly colored miniature dragon glaring down at him from the doorframe.

"Pregnant women cry. If rice leads to her lamenting her own choices, no subject is safe. Next time I talk about Min or the herds, she might decide to cry over her old stallion," Bataar shot back. He might have been feeling guilty, but he was not going to accommodate this recurring annoyance.

"Well, you're the man of the house, when your lady is crying you need to get her to stop," Mushu insisted, nodding his head with authority as he crossed his arms over that pathetically thin chest.

"Oh, and what would you suggest?"

"I am so glad you asked! With men, if you want to get to them, you need their respect, but women you need to make happy! And nothing makes a lady's frown turn upside down like gifts!

"Sweets are out, with the whole stomach deal. Unless she demands them, then don't you dare not meet that demand. Stay away from clothes too. But jewels and gold always work!

"Bribery solves most problems with chicks if done properly," Mushu told him. Bataar rolled his eyes and pushed off the frame. He opened the door as Mushu stuck his head down in his path.

"Wait, you need a br- I mean present!" Mushu told him. The Shan-Yu plucked the dragon by his neck from the perch.

"I have no idea what I am going to do, but it couldn't be as bad as listening to your advice," he tossed the dragon into the snow and stepped in to face his pregnant wife.

_Months Later:_

Bataar blinked in surprise, looking up from the ground, and winced at the pain in his left eye. He would be sporting quite a black eye, he realized.

"I will be riding with Choeten in her wagon," Hachin sneered, before turning and storming off. Or at least tried to – she had to waddle a bit now, with the large belly.

Which was why he was on the frozen ground. She had called for his help mounting Min. As the former Chinese woman had seemed to fail to realize it, he had pointed it out for the sake of three people.

She was too big to ride a horse properly if she couldn't get onto one herself.

Which had been followed by a, well, surprising surprise attack. He heard some men laughing, but he was grinning. Crying was a problem, but when she was angry and a bit violent... Well, he had found out something over the months about what he liked. Hopefully the mood would not switch over before camp was made in the evening.

XXX

When the birth came, it was a relief. He had been attending to a dispute on siting for two gers when word came to him. Apparently, it happened while Solongo was trying to teach a recipe to Hachin. The midwife had swooped in with her students, and seen the queen off to their place of practice.

He had finished the dispute before stopping by. The birthing tent was barred to any man who was not a shaman; a father's role was to keep vigil by the main entrance. Ostensibly to guard against any threat that might come.

The young shaman had not stuck around upon his sovereign's arrival. Bataar knew he had to mend fences with the spirit man. He had said nothing, but it was clear he had conveyed somehow he did not consider the mere graybeard a fit successor to Old Moon as his shaman.

The others joined him in his waiting. Oyunbileg had preceded him. She had taken more of a role in his inner circle since that night. True to form, she chose work to fill her time.

The twins showed up soon enough, Choeten – not yet pregnant to her disappointment – with them. The small woman had immediately entered the tent, barely sparing him a glance, the others joining him in silence.

Four absences keenly felt, each in their own way. Despite the occasion, he wondered who would be the next to depart? He had not dwelled on such things before that night; after all, even Hachin's avalanche had not been able to shatter the company of warriors and confidants he had surrounded himself with.

But mortality had won out, as it always would. Three dead in a single night, and the fourth dead to them unless the day came they met again, on which he would have to die.

It felt like they should say something, but no one seemed to know how to start. Even Gaitan sat silently, arms crossed over his new scar.

Ruga joined them as well, large and hairy as ever. The mighty warrior, once presented to demonstrate his family's strong blood, had been offered as an officer to the Shan-Yu. A political move, but necessary to build ties with the tribes and build the strength of his own back up.

The large man was good, despite a temper and a tendency to show off. They would see more like him soon enough, new people trying to fill the empty spots, even as they rode to leave marks of their own.

Did it always take this long for a woman to give birth, he wondered? Why didn't the gods and spirits make the process more efficient? Eggs perhaps?

"Bataar, son of Tianlinn, your son has come among us," the midwife spoke. Bataar jerked in surprise. He had not heard her emerge. And the words…

His son. Despite the pregnancy being impossible to ignore, it had never struck to his center till now. He was a father; he had an heir.

He let the scowling old woman lead him inside. The place stank; whether it was the birth or whatever woman's magic they did here, he did not know. He was listening to the crying. It was not as annoying as it should have been.

His wife sat up on a bed, propped against something lined with horsehides marked with char-drawn symbols he did not recognize. She looked terrible and wonderful, a radiant mess, with her hair clinging to her exhausted and smiled face and shining neck. She held a bundle awkwardly to her bare body.

"He has your eyes," she told him. The new father knelt, and she moved the baby enough to let him see the face. It was hardly inspiring, he admitted, hardly different than any of the infants he had seen in his life. Still, he felt something, a strange relief and dread.

The boy opened his eyes, gold on black, and looked at him briefly before crying.

Bataar ignored the crying as his wife worriedly tried to settle the boy. His son.

It was only after she finished speaking he realized she was talking to him. Oh, and the crying had stopped?

"I would like to name him Zhu," she told him. Her eyes had that look in them, the kind that informed him it was not permission she was asking.

"It is now known that the treachery was not his. Fa Zhu was an honorable foe, despite what happened."

"But the future Shan-Yu must be known by a Hun name. He shall be announced as Tianlinn, for my father, and the wolf eyes. It would not be the first time a ruler has borne one name as king and another as a man," he told her.

She smiled at his words. It was a strange smile, unique so far in their improbable marriage.

As much as he recalled the face of his son, he recalled that smile when the women shooed him from the tent. He did not believe in love as songs spoke of, and he doubted there would ever be anything that could be mistaken for _that_ between him and his wife.

But that smile, it made him think it could be more than just civil tolerance between them for all that.

XXX

The boy grew, as they tended to. Bataar was at some loss for how to deal with such a thing, but it was not much needed, he concluded. The depression that had come and gone from his wife had little room with a child demanding her attention. And she had the aid of two women well versed in raising children, who seemed absolutely devoted to the little prince.

Gaitan even stepped forward for a time, offering to take the boy off their overworked hands for periods. His true motive, of course, was using the baby and his "sense of responsibility" to better woo the ladies of the tribe. A revelation the queen had not been pleased by.

Qorchi had been the next male caretaker. The boy both stunned by the responsibility, ad terrified as if the little prince would break at the slightest accident. Still better the boy than him, Bataar thought.

XXX

Hachin rarely thought of herself by her old name. Only Mushu still used it. She wondered if it would ever be anything more than her old name to her son?

Her son.

Sometimes, waking up, when Zhu wasn't responsible, it all seemed too absurd to be real. That she would open her eyes and still be the awkward daughter knowing where she was supposed to go but dreading the journey.

She would never admit it, but she had been dreading her son would take after his father. Though they would never meet, she hoped for a grandson who would be embraced by his grandfather without hesitation.

Looking into his eyes as she had held him that first time, she discovered such things didn't matter much to her after all.

He was perfect in every way. And she would love to show off her royal son to the matchmaker. Not good for bearing sons! Ha! This time, she would tattoo the beard on her – matchmaker would look better as a man anyway. Well, slightly.

Her relationship with her husband, Bataar, had also been changing. He made for an awkward father, but it was hard to stay angry with him. She was blessed with basically three sisters who were seasoned with babies. Bataar did not have anyone to guide him in this, and was too proud to look for such help.

Life was shockingly good. Little Zhu may have become the center of her world, but Choeten and Oyunblieg were determined she would not let him have all of it. Once she was recovered enough, she was called to train with the spear wives again. Despite the senior spear wife's protest, she was teaching the sword to those who wanted to learn. The spear was a better weapon for most of these women, but they needed to know how to use a sword if they didn't have a spear instead.

And Choeten had her step up into the long vacant role of Queen. Much like Bataar was a mediator of the men's disputes, she was responsible for the women. It was less likely to result in bloodshed than Bataar's work, but resolutions rarely seemed to stay resolved.

She didn't really have any legal authority over them. But her opinion held a lot of weight, so it seemed. Except for those who felt a spear wife was unfit, a spear mother more so, to dictate on women matters.

A family, friends, and an active role in the community – life as Hachin had little in common with life as Mulan.

And then a rider brought news that upset the balance she had settled into.

Mere months after little Zhu's first birthday, dreaded words reached them. One of the tributary tribes had rebelled. They demanded a reduction of their annual tribute to the Huns, and further rights on the Steppes. Unegan's former territory. While a new King of the Left had been appointed, he was not receiving the support that Bataar felt was needed.

The Confederation needed to send a sharp message, or its power would unravel. Hachin did not like the idea of her son's inheritance falling apart. But she did not like the idea of her husband, and a friend, riding off to a war and leaving her behind.

She had gone to war and sent her life down an unexpected tract to avoid watching her father march off. In the end, she just silently watched them both ride off, hoping they would return. Gaitan had promised to look after his Shan-Yu, but she understood all the good intentions in the world might amount to nothing when the battle was joined.

What would happen to little Zhu and her if Bataar were to fall? Would the warlike Huns have patience for a child to grow? Would Coyot be a regent for little Zhu, could even the calm Beast be trusted with that kind of power?

And shortly after they left, she learned she was pregnant again.

XXX

As it happened, the rebellion was a pitiful affair. Apparently, most of their allies deserted when word came the dreaded Shan-Yu himself would be riding against them. They had not expected such a small matter to bring the Wolf himself, it seemed. After that, it was more of a hunt to take some heads as examples than a proper war.

Still, his absence stretched on, as the local Hun tribes demanded his attention for various matters. Among other things, the matter of possible second wives. Still, she wondered if Mushu might be right about him dragging his feet to avoid sharing her pregnancy woes.

As it was, he would return in plenty of time to meet back with her and the tribe at the Summit. Where she had an eventful trip to Caspar's tent.

"Your Majesty, radiant in all ways, with the light of a new prince's life within and a strong heir without! Welcome once more to Caspar's tent!" the ornate and fat Persian proclaimed, bowing and beckoning her in.

The Persian had clearly prospered; the tent was larger and more packed, with goods of cloth and jars large enough to hide a man in. Poor Humayun seemed to still be under his relative's thumb, standing with a weary look between the massive jars and a table of ornate jars. True to form, the wealthy Persian grabbed her attention back.

"I tell all, that I knew you before you were singled out by destiny; that I spied the greatness waiting to bloom upon the Steppes. I knew then this was no mere slave to be taken and traded as mere plunder, for Caspar of Merv is a man of breeding and perception," he declared, his rings catching the light and making the gestures even more absurd.

She rather doubted he had given her much thought, good or bad, in that first encounter. Simply another customer, and at first glance a bed warmer for Gaitan of all things! Still, she smiled and traded a look with Oyunbileg, who rolled her eye at the flamboyant foreigner's antics.

"I was hoping you and the little prince would grace my tent. For you see, I have invested in a new side business. Not so lucrative as oils and textiles, but a market untapped until now… finely crafted toys for the cream of the Steppes' children!" he declared.

From somewhere he pulled out a knife – no, it was a painted little wooden sword. In the Persian style no less.

"A gift for the little prince, no charge, compliments of Caspar of Merv," the merchant announced.

'And you hope having a royal customer will bring the wealthy Huns running to fill your coffers. A fine strategy in China, but I am not so sure the Huns would follow their royalty so blindly,' the Queen thought.

Still, she stirred the child in her arms, and with a nod of her head drew his attention to Caspar. He laughed at the sight of the man, never having seen such before. The Persian smiled widely and went on one knee to offer the toy to the boy, tiny hilt first.

Wolf eyes wide, Zhu looked at the piece of wood carved to look like a weapon.

"Go on Zhu, take Caspar's present," Hachin urged him. He looked to her with those big eyes, and she smiled widely at him, even suppressing a flinch at a spike of cramp. Oyunblieg caught it and relived her of her son.

She took a deep breath as Caspar continued to try and get the prince to take the sword with a softer toned version of his sales pitch. Hachin put a hand to her swollen stomach; she hated having to restrict herself like this again, but it was worth it.

She would never consider a need for a spare to her son, whose eyes were so like and yet completely different from his father's, but she would not have him grow up alone like she had. And there was the future of the Huns to consider. Bataar's father had his family to count on to keep his rule strong without having to chase down every problem like Bataar had to do now.

Zhu would need strong and clever brothers to protect him and his children. And sisters, for… alliances, and warriors as well, if Mulan would have any say in the matter. If any daughter of hers found their husband to be a Unegan behind the ger door, they would answer with a spear of their own!

"First you look like you might faint, now you look scary as a cat about to snatch the bird," Mushu broke in. Hachin gave him a friendly glare; he had taken to riding on her shoulders, much like Suren on Bataar's shoulders. The sight of her "pet dragon" certainly silenced any man who questioned her authority. And let her rank be clear without a need to constantly dress the part.

"I'm pregnant," she told him flatly.

"You abuse that excuse, Mulan. Granted, it can be taken far, but you still take advantage. And are you really this eager for another hair puller? Granted, it is hilarious when he gets a good yank on big and scary," Mushu chuckled.

"You are just scared this one will be just as 'fascinated' with you," the Hun Queen teased. Mushu shuddered at the reminder; he had learned to fear the toddler and his grabbing, squeezing, poking hands.

"He seems more interested in that," Oyunbileg pointed out. Hachin and Mushu turned their attention to a surprised Humayun, who was spinning something red on the end of a piece of twine. The Persian grabbed it and held it up, walking over.

"This is a yo-yo, a new item from China," he supplied. Mushu scuttled down her shoulders to investigate, leaving her to endure a woozy feeling fill her head. Why did things seem worse this time, she wondered?

"Oh, I do like it, a spitting image!" Mushu declared, swiping the yo-yo. It was painted with red; it must have been a dragon. She managed to put down a grunt from another cramp; at least they were too focused on Zhu to notice. She didn't want to be confined to her tent or something. How embarrassing…

"Oh come now, he's just chewing on it, too young to know what to do with it. Better to take a simpler, better stocked, toy for the young prince," she heard Caspar say.

"As opposed to the fake sword he is equally clueless with? Suppose word gets out to the Shan-Yu his son put out an eye with something given by a foreigner?" Oyunbileg shot back.

The next cramp sent Mulan to her knees with a gasp. Everyone was around her, how embarrassing! She felt so sick, even her scar was throbbing.

"Mulan?!" Mushu demanded, "What's wrong?"

"By Zoroaster, it is your time?" Caspar demanded, wide-eyed over his oiled beard.

"No, no, it's just… It's too soon, this is only – ahhh!" she cried. Her breath hitched and sped up as she felt it, the warm wet spreading down her legs as Caspar and Humayun ran out, yelling something far away while her son was crying.

"Too soon," she whispered, thinking of her mother. Thinking of her brothers.

XXX

For once, Bataar was pleased to be arriving at the Summit. Accompanied by two other chieftains of the Circle, he came to report in person the utter victory in reminding the lesser tribes who ruled this region of the Steppes. And he had arrived with time to spare to witness the birth of his second born. That should please his wife, he had thought.

He had not been pleased when the outrider had summoned him to the birthing tent to attend the Queen. The man's lack of knowledge had made knocking him from his horse a tempting option. In the interest of speed, he had spared the boy injury and followed.

Most of the Circle was assembled outside the more ornate birthing tent, in discussion with an assortment of shamans and elderly women. Only Coyot noted his unheralded arrival. The man's look of concern was the final straw.

"Well?" he demanded. He did not shout, but he had their attention. What looked like the oldest woman present stepped forward and bowed to him, clinking with eadaols likely linked to fertility.

"Great Shan-Yu, I am-"

"I do not care. I gather that either my wife or second born is dead. You will give me answers or die now," he snapped.

"…Both yet live, but…"

"Enough," he growled, swinging down from his horse. He strode past the women, the chiefs scrambling from his path.

"There has been no purification! You cannot!"

"Stop me then," he stated, flinging the door open.

XXX

"Shan-Yu Bataar! It is too soon for a man to be here!" an old woman shouted. His glare cowed her and her equally gray companion. His eyes found his wife on the birthing bed, staring at him listlessly. The smell of blood and other essences of the body were in the air beneath the burned herbs. Blood, like a battle being fought, setting his own in motion.

"Where is the child?" he demanded. Hachin did not have it, and neither did they. What was the meaning of this?

"There," she said, pointing to a mass of rags he had overlooked, "She should not look upon her."

Bataar paused in his advance at the words. A moment's hesitation, and he turned to face the two aged midwives.

"Why?" he demanded. Taking a breath, the woman pulled herself up and placed her arms, trying to assert her so-called authority.

"The girl is small and silent, weak. She came too early, and she will leave this world soon. It is better that your wife not even look upon her long. Let the tragedy be nothing more than a faint memory with little purchase on her heart," the midwife told him firmly.

"…Leave before I kill you," he said, turning away. The words and calm tone left the women exchanging glances.

"You should not even be-"

"And yet here I stand, no spirit smiting me for daring to meddle with foolishness," Bataar said as he leaned and gently lifted a bundle from among the rags.

"You… not even a Shan-Yu would dare shed blood in a sacred place such as this," the second woman spoke for the first time.

"I assure you that while killing you, I would not spill a drop of blood," he smiled at them.

They left and he was alone, with his wife and his daughter.

"Let me see her," Hachin spoke softly. Blood still surging, he went to kneel by her, shifting the bundle to let her see the tiny face.

"So tiny. My mother, she-"

"So you told me. You did not miscarry, our daughter lives. You can see her breathing. I see it clearly if you do not trust your eyes," he said, shifting so as to sit by the bedside.

"Thank you. But those were midwives from across the tribes. And they said…"

"Did you listen when everyone in China said you could not be a soldier? Did you let your father march off to war while staying behind as you were expected? Did you give up when first my army and then a mountain descended upon you?

"I am disappointed you would let defeatists sway you, Hachin. I expect many things from you, many that I do not like or enjoy. But I would have expected nothing less than for you to ignore reason and get out of this bed and take the child you brought into this world back from weaklings and fools," he told her.

"…Do you really think she will live? They told me she shouldn't be named, to make it easier for her spirit to leave this world after such a short stay. That we could not re-gift a name having given it to one child," Hachin whispered, watching the bundle from where she laid, hair a mess and her face streaked with exhaustion.

"This child is not weak. She is a fighter. She is silent and still because she knows to save her strength, to fight to live. She is not one to give up, even if she has been born with great odds arrayed against her.

"And she has a name, Zaya," he said firmly. His wife pulled in a breath. They had not discussed a name; there had been little chance. But he knew no other name would fit the life he held so tenderly.

Catching a hint of motion, his eyes cast down, away from his wife to his daughter. As he watched, her eyes opened. Dark eyes, not wolf eyes; like his wife, not his mother. Zaya looked at him, his image caught in her gaze. When the eyes closed, she seemed to breathe easier than before.

"She has your eyes," he informed her. When there was no answer, he looked up, and saw she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Glancing around, he knew someone would have to tend to this mess. He had not seen his tribe's midwife, that stubborn old goat, around. Still, he had never heard talk of such nonsense from her – even if these were well regarded women of fertility, better to have a brave novice than a defeatist to lead you into battle.

'Sleep, my wife; you have done well despite your moment of cowardice. When you awake, you will have your strength again. In the meantime, I will prepare for you,' he thought, getting to his feet.

Among other things, his heir would need to meet his new sister. There was much to be done, and as a man there was much he could not do in this. But he would do the best he knew how of what he could, for his family.

**Author's Note:**

_There you have it, the birth of the couple's first two children. Next chapter will have more children and let us see the elder two start to emerge as characters. All of the royal children are fun for me, but these two I couldn't resist giving them a little cameo in Hachin I was so eager to get a start in some way on their story. After all could you see these two producing boring children? _

_Now for some matters you might be wondering about. One I am not trying to depict the midwives badly. Childbirth is a perilous thing even today, and back then there were rarely higher authorities you could appeal too. You might have a few people of medicine and that was all you could afford or reach._

_I felt as Mulan was established in this story to come from a family with a history of pregnancy troubles it would make sense for it to not just be smooth sailing. And such troubles as a way to bring Bataar and his wife closer together in a believable manner,_

_If you were holding your breath and relieved by the lack of birthing bed tragedy, thank Jazzqueen. For a good while I reconsidered Zaya's birth. Namely a twin birth, playing into premature birth,with Zaya's twin dying. But I was convinced that crossed a line for the story, and so Mulan is thankfully spared such heartbreak. _

_And then we have Bataar, as Mulan herself notes he is an awkward father. Probably comes from his own father being less involved in his life than his older brother was. Not to mention going from nearly asexual bachelor to married family man in what seems like rapid succession. Still I think ol' Big and Scary will manage to be a father without losing his awesome. Hachin is a mother and still kickass after all._

_Until next time, long days and pleasant nights to you all._


End file.
